Speech on Pause
by Mibae
Summary: Ch. 14 Jet-Lag //'Matt doesn't care where you are.' But, I didn't. I couldn't.// MelloxNear
1. Ice Skating On Nerves

**Ice Skating on Nerves**  
**-Mello-**

That socially inept kid is ice-skating over my nerves, fraying them into unintelligible strands. He seems to want something from me, but every time I'd get close enough for it to be private, his speech seemed to pause, making it nearly impossible to actually find out what it was. I, of course, am not one to push to hard, unless it has to do with me getting in trouble with Roger yet again. Thus, every time he'd quit speaking momentarily, I'd leave him alone, walk away, and ignore him.

I can never understand him. I don't think anyone can understand him. Even for L, he is a challenge, never speaking out of turn, and always seeming to say something to either disappoint or anger someone. He isn't sensitive to words, and thinks everyone else shouldn't be—which was true. However, he doesn't seem to realize that people's emotions were torn whenever he spoke.

I groan, crossing my arms and staring up at the ceiling from my bed. That damned boy is on my mind, and I want him gone. I run my fingers through my fringe, hating my train of thought; when I should be thinking on the test that was in a few days, I am thinking about Near.

It seems he really was far better than me in many areas, including controlling my subconscious. I sigh, feeling a tingle roll down my spine at the questions running through my head. My eyes close on their own, and I am left in my dreams, whilst the world moved on to deal with the warm afternoon.


	2. Crush? OrangeFlavoured Soda

**Crush? Orange-Flavoured Soda**  
**-Near-**

I don't expect to say it at all today. I want to speak with Mello, however, every moment I get close enough to tell him anything at all about that, I freeze. Normally, I would frown on that verb, but there is no other way to describe it. Most girls, even a few boys, speak of how they can't think or speak whenever they're near their 'Crush'. It confused me why people would become nervous when near an orange-flavoured soda, but now I think I understand.

Then again, every time I think I understand people, something changes and I have a new puzzle to ponder. I clank my figures together, wondering how I could possibly tell the brilliant blond without stammering, stuttering, or freezing. There is always the chance I can tell him in a note, but he never seems to want to read anything unless it's for credit, not that I can blame him. The books here in Whammy's are rather dull and are all non-fiction. I could call him, but I doubt that Roger would allow me to walk into town to use a payphone just to talk with the brash boy. I could ask someone to tell him for me, but that would be the coward's way out.

It seems that no matter what I come up with, I have to tell him myself. I take a breath and slam the playthings together once again. Whenever he decides to come out of his room, I will try again. However, no promises can be made. He does, after all, take my breath away.

I take another breath and glance up to the doorway, hoping that I will see him soon. I glance at the plastic action figures. I am bored, and my mind wants to wander to him to let it imagine things that I shouldn't think of doing before telling him. I rise from my seat on the floor and set my toys in their proper place before I pull out a box, a gift from the great detective. I sit back on the floor, my muscles aching already from the small strain on my calves. With a small sigh, I pull a knee to my chest. Perhaps my condition is deteriorating.


	3. Child or Adult

**Child or Adult**  
**-Mello-**

My eyes open momentarily. I think I'd heard someone call for me. Then again, it might've just have been my imagination. I mumble and lean closer to my pillow, shoving my nose into the feather-filled plush. I suppose I'm hoping that the goose-feathers will suffocate me back into sleep. I groan upon feeling a finger prod my side. "What the fuck is your problem?" I snarl and sit up.

I glare at whomever is trying to get my attention. I huff indignantly and cross my arms. "This had better be damned important for you to wake me up, Matt."

Honestly, I'm glad it was Matt and not Near, then again, why would Near be coming into my room at… I scan my room for the red lights of my clock. Two in the morning? I growl and glare at the teen my age.

"Well, Mels, you missed maths and I thought I'd give you my notes," he tells me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I look under his arm where his notebook was, the cover reading 'maths' in bright red. Perhaps it is pretty obvious.

My glare softens and I snatch the note from his arm. "Thanks, I guess," I tell him, looking over the pages of yesterday. "Ya know, for number three, you take terrible notes," I mumbled. Looking up at him, I see him roll his eyes.

"Well, I should head off," he tells me, walking back to the door of my room. "See ya in the morning, Mel."

I close the book and thought on the teen, my best friend I suppose. And, of course, just like yesterday, my mind leans towards Near. For some reason, I just notice that I've been referring to Near as a child and Matt as older. I should be making Matt look like the younger and Near as the elder. It works better that way. That albino freak is more adult than Matt and I put together.

I yawn terribly and toss the note onto the floor to the side of my bed so I remember it in the morning. Closing my eyes, I return to sleep with an image of Near blinking at me innocently as he speaks inarticulate words.


	4. Cradle Me In Open Arms

**Cradle Me In Open Arms**  
**-Near-**

Most don't know much about me; this includes L and Roger. Roger, although he runs this orphanage for the overly clever, knows almost nothing about us, save for our pseudonyms and other unnecessary information. L knows what he needs to, and guesses for most of our information. Whammy, however, knows all about us, not just our quirk and habits. For me, he knows of my deteriorating muscles, and inability to overexert myself without anything dangerous occurring.

I know it's a strange sort of disease, but Mister Whammy believes it is hereditary, from either my mother or father. I've estimated that I will most likely die before I reach my twenty-fifth year. It is an appalling thing to approximate, but I know that it would be a greater thing to know when I might die so that I might do what I can to make my life meaningful.

L taught me of that.

I stare out the window, a stuffed panda cradled in my arms. It is moments like this that I wish someone would cradle me in open arms. I hold back the urge to crimson over that idea and the thought of blond hair falling into my eyes as I sigh comfortably. I press my nose against the top of the bear's head. From my perch on the sill, I can see the boys and girls playing and screaming, and laughing, and being happy.

I hold my breath for a moment, wondering what it's like to be like that. With the way my body is, I am uncertain I'll be able to do such things. The idea of death from such simple actions is horrifying, but I suppose I'll survive if it's only thought.


	5. Mints With Milk

**Mints With Milk**  
**-Mello-**

I got up earlier than normal for an average Monday. I had wanted to run to the town and get some chocolate to refresh my stash. Now, though, looking down the road to town, I was unsure. I didn't want to on my own, but I knew Matt would moan about having class in an hour and not having enough time to get to a level to kill some bad guy. I looked ahead of me at the twilight and sighed, taking my sweet time to get to the store.

I kicked up rocks, my hands swinging comfortably at my sides. For some reason, I could only imagine the feel of someone holding my hand. And, of course, because my mind wanted it to be true, my hand felt warmer. It's a terrible thing to waste such warmth, so I let my mind wander. I felt warm, and not just my hand. I could only imagine how bright I was crimsoning.

Once at the store, I keep one hand at my side, the other scanning the shelves for the best chocolates. I pick up a box of chocolates that look rather delicious. I shrug and hold them under my arm, thinking why not. As per usual, I pick out an energy drink for Matt, because I know that sweets aren't his thing. For some reason, I pick up a bottle of milk and a package of sweet dinner mints.

I set it on the counter, leaning on it to be casual. The man there know me, recognizes me. He sets a package filled with chocolate bars on the counter and rings it all up. I hand him what I have and walk away with my sweets, but not before being asked about some 'special someone'.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

The man laughs, his belly rumbling. "You usually only get the choco and the caffeine, for you and your friend. Usually only girls like those mints with milk." He winks then laughs again. "If you're embarrassed, that's fine." He chuckles, mumbling about his first love and leaving me gaping.

I grumble, grinding my teeth until it is uncomfortable. That man knows nothing. I didn't get those for some stupid girl. I thought maybe Near… I stop my thoughts and shove the mints, chocolate, milk and energy drink into a paper bag and stop off. That man knows nothing.


	6. Yet To Arrive

**Yet to Arrive**  
**-Near-**

Mello believes that I don't pay attention in class. I know he thinks this. He has thrown things at me in class so I look up; he has yelled at me after class to pay attention. There was once here he even hit me during class to get me to pay attention. Right after that, though, we were both sent to Roger's office and told to stay in our rooms for the remainder of the day, because Mello wouldn't apologize.

Although I do sometimes tune out the things the teacher insists on teaching, my mind seems to work far better when I am playing with a toy. Mello probably knows this and refuses to believe it, simply because he is not allowed to crunch on his chocolate during class. I complete my puzzle and stare at the door for a long moment, wondering why Mello has yet to arrive.

He might've made a quick errand to the store before classes. My hand reaches my hair as I twirl a few locks around it. The teacher doesn't seem to notice my puzzle hasn't been turned over, nor are the pieces being clicked into place. The classroom feels a bit more empty without a paper airplane hitting my head or a hand flying up to answer all the questions.

We don't have much time left in class, from what I know. My hand falls from my hair and I lift up my puzzle, sliding from my chair to walk from the room. I might as well quit pretending to pay attention and leave. I hobble to the door, nodding to the teacher as he watches me leave.

Walking down the barren hallways, I can't help but wonder where Mello is. I should probably be wondering how much farther the common room is and taking a breath, but I do not. I finally make it to the common room, after a stumbling and supporting myself with the wall.

I sit near the door, in hopes that if Mello decides to pass by here I can see him and know he is all right. Hopefully, by then, I can gather the courage to speak with him.


	7. Into The Porcelain Bowl

**Into the Porcelain Bowl**  
**-Mello-**

I hate Near. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. That stupid kid with his stupid face and his stupid hair, and his stupid lack of emotions and his stupid hands, and his stupid toys and his stupid everything! I hate that stupid kid! And that man! "He's probably stupider than that kid!" I yelled as I got on the grounds of the school.

Of course, everyone noticed when I called out, and everyone stared at me. I don't care. I never care. I care even less now. Stupid clerk…

I stomp into Whammy's House and throw the can at Matt's head. I could care less if he ends up with a concussion. Right now, I just want to hit someone, in particular, Near. I hate him so much, I could just scream, and it would do nothing for me.

For some reason, instead of making my way to Near's room, I'm standing in the bathroom with my head against the rim of the toilet. "Fuck it all…" I mumble, emptying my stomach of acids into the porcelain bowl. I lost the bag somewhere along the way to the loo, and now I'm far too tired to even look for it.

I drag myself up to my feet and begin my trek to my bed. "Hey, Mello!" someone calls out, "you okay? You dropped this." I look over, and it's Linda, that peppy artist. I sneer at her and snatch away my bag.

I look for Matt and toss him the milk. "Put that in the fridge," I snap, though my heart wasn't in it. I'm not angry anymore. I'm more exhausted than anything. And, I know anger isn't the feeling. For some strange reason, it's relief and disappointment. My heart sinks as I see Near walk out from the common room only to see me dishevelled, a complete wreck, walking back to my bedroom.

I walk towards him, only to brush past. I know my room's the other direction, but I need to cool of a bit more.


	8. Unhurried Step Forward

**Unhurried Step Forward**  
**-Near-**

I touch my shoulder, wondering if I'd done something. Mello looked overly angry, probably with something I'd done. I glance at the dispersing group of people, watching as Matt shrugs and heads towards the kitchen. I stare over my shoulder at the last flick of blond hair as he turns the corner.

With conflicting feelings, I take a deep breath and walk the direction Mello disappeared in. Holding onto the wall, almost for dear life, I drag my feet as fast as I possibly can. "Mello," I state, heavily. He doesn't stop just yet. I take in as great of a breath that I can and call his name. His feet stop, his left in front of his right.

I close my eyes and breath out. I take an unhurried step forward. With unpractised ease, I stumble to his side, grasping his forearm for balance. "Mello," I say again, watching as his dark green eyes hold my stare. I almost wish I could say anything else, but my mind is stuck on repeat. His jaw is hard. I know this look. Hard eyes, clenched jaw, curled fingers and slow blinks; he is contemplating what to do. Pondering my own next move, I straighten my legs, locking my knees.

It isn't the smartest thing in this moment to do, as if he were to push me over, my body would quickly fall into the uncomfortable carpet. His hands unfurl and he slides his fingers beneath mine, holding it steadily. "Go away," he tells me, holding my hand.

I blink, a bit confuse. "Mello," I whisper, moving my other hand to hold his, "I cannot."

"Then leave me alone," he grits out.

I swallow and know that if I do what I am about to do could cause me some damage. My words have escaped me as he tries to tug his hand away from me. Using whatever strength I have in my legs, I propel myself forward to clench his vest. I clamber to stand once again. He seems to have been caught off guard as I press my cheek to his heart and hold him in place. "I won't."


	9. Not A Chance

**Not A Chance**  
**-Mello-**

I stare at him. My stomach, although it felt sick before, now feels light and feathery. I want to loosen my features and look upon his closed eyes the way I know he wants to look at me, but I won't let myself. Instead, here I am, standing with Near holding my chest.

I watch him as he tilts his head upwards to look at me earnestly. From this angle, I can't hate Near, but I know that deep down, I should. He is number one, and he is in my way. I frown at him and set my hands on his shoulders. I know my body language is contradicting my words, but I don't care. I know that right now, I should, but I can't bring myself to it.

"Leave me alone," I mumble threateningly, clasping his shoulders tightly in my hands.

He shows no discomfort and I stare into his eyes, grimacing. He slides his fingers into the folds of my vest, touching my skin. His fingers are cool as he tugs himself to stare directly into my eyes. He blinks his large grey eyes at me. I feel my cheeks grow hot as he leans closer. I take an uneasy step backwards. There isn't anywhere I can go, I know this, but it makes me feel a bit more in control of the situation.

I take yet another step and find myself against the wall. Near steps onto the toes of my boots, standing as tall as he can get. He leans closer to my face and presses his lips just before my ear and whispers softly. "Not a chance," he says, stepping from my shoes and onto the carpet where he holds the wall and watches me innocently.

My cheeks burn as I'm still holding his shoulders. I push him against the wall roughly and walk away, with my teeth grinding.


	10. Twenty Minutes

**Twenty Minutes**  
**-Near-**

My fingertips tingle from touching him so sweetly. I don't know why I did it, but it was hard to avoid. I slid down the wall, my hands inching down to the floor where I pulled one knee to my chest. I only hope he won't hate me more for this. I didn't have that in mind when I pressed myself to him and told him I couldn't leave him alone.

The truth is, he should be the one to leave me alone, as he is still on my mind. I'm positive that twenty minutes have passed since he had pushed me against the wall, perhaps longer. I look over my shoulder at the wooden structure and touch the back of my head, running my fingers over the newly formed bump there. Ah, well.

I touch my cheek against the flat of the wood and close my eyes. It feels cold like the leather Mello wears, but there's no pounding behind the cool. I lean my hand against the wall and stand. With a deep breath, I make my way past the common room towards my room. It's dark now, and I doubt Roger noticed I was not in my bed.

Come morning, I hope he forgets my reckless actions. After all, it seemed I did something that Mello, himself, would be more prone to do. I undress and tug on a new set of pyjamas. With a bit of a struggle, I am on my bed with my blankets around me tightly. I lay my head over the cool satin and wonder whether Mello has satin pillows as well and if he is thinking of me.


	11. Speech On Pause

**Speech On Pause**  
**-Mello-**

I'm not going to even wonder what has gotten into that kid. I'm still blushing; I can feel it burn my cheeks as I try to sleep. I roll over in an attempt to get comfortable and fall asleep. I take a breath and close my eyes. The feel of cool fingers touching my skin is imprinted in my brain, and the memory of the hotness of Near's breath against my ear is keeping me up.

I swallow and stare at the wall once again. "Stupid Near," I mumble aloud, throwing my blankets off of me and onto the floor, where they end up every morning. I grab up a tee shirt and pull it over my head as I walk out of the room. Making my way as quietly as possible down the halls, I clench my hands. I walk right into Matt's room and go for his desk drawer, pulling out a spare bar of chocolate.

I slide the drawer closed and walk out of the room. I take that guy too much for granted, but oh well. It gets me free chocolate and him some entertainment once in a while. I rip open the candy and snap off a bite. With a heavy sigh I make my way further down the halls to Stupid Near's room.

I open the door and walk inside, closing the door behind me. I can almost feel Near waking up. I turn around and glare at him through the darkness. "What the hell did you do to me?" I hiss at him, waking him further.

He rubs an eye and moves to sit against the wall. "Mello, please refrain from such language. It's unnecessary," he murmurs and tugs his white comforter around his frame, probably to keep warm.

My eyes harden further. "What did you do?" I ask, my voice nearly cracking. I take a few steps closer to him and stare him in the eye.

"I didn't do anything," he tells me quietly. I know he wants to go back to sleep.

I press a knee into the mattress and hoist myself to sit in front of him. "You did something."

He blinked at me once before letting out a breath. "Why do you think this?" he asked me.

My throat closed. I couldn't very well tell him I was thinking about him. That would just arise questions that he would ask. I clench my jaw and hands. I want to hit him in hopes of relieving the tension in the room. Instead, I don't and just stare.

He closes his eyes and leans back towards his pillow. "Since you have no reason to say this, please lie down." I stare at him, my eyes wide. He wants me… to sleep with him? I blink thrice before hardening my glare once again. His wide eyes open and the white of the comforter, pillows, and the rest of the room give him a ethereal glow. His hands grasp my arm and ease me onto the pillows.

Words escape me and leave my speech on pause as I lay beside him. I stare straight up, knowing I could yell at him and I should throw him against the wall and run again, but I feel comfortable. My eyes close and I slip into an easy sleep.


	12. Against My Heartbeat

**Against My Heartbeat**  
**-Near-**

On any normal morning, I would wake and roll over onto my stomach and think about whatever came to mind. Normally, it was Mello, in which case my mind would drift over everything, somehow finding a link to the brash blond. On this particular morning, however, I cannot roll over. It isn't because I am physically incapable of shifting my weight so that I may roll onto my stomach; something is in my way. I sigh and sit up, the light of my nightlight illuminating my room poorly.

I slid my foot beneath me and lean over the lump in my blankets. My fingertips tremble as I slide the comforter downwards. I have revealed blond hair and a smooth tanned face. My hands pull back to my knee where they tap restlessly. I don't know why he is in my bed, nor do I know how he got there.

The only thing I'm sure of is that I had a strange dream about Mello yelling at me about something and I told him to lie down. My teeth tug my lower lip between them and I mull over the thought that maybe it wasn't a dream. My left hand moves to it's own accord and brushes soft fringe from closed eyes. I tilt my head and slid my fingers through the coarse locks.

With a gentle sigh, he rolls over. His hands reach for something and find my waist, fondling my hips. His head lies against my thigh and I cannot help but wonder whether or not he will be angry when he wakes up. Deciding to take the moment as it is, I thread my fingers through his yellow hair and lean over him so my head is against his side, absorbing and sharing his warmth. I sigh gently and close my eyes.

I wait for movement, hoping he won't make any. I don't hold my breath though. If I know Mello correctly, he will not let me know when he is moving and when he is awake. His hands move up my chest as he moves so that he is leaning against my heartbeat. My face floods with heat and I know I am blushing. I let my breathing shallow out so he believes I am asleep.

It works, because the next thing I know, he's sighing deeply and staring at my face, at least I believe so.


	13. Excuses

**Excuses**  
**-Mello-**

I stare at his closed eyes. He's so confusing like this—quiet, comfortable, and warm against my side, I sigh deep in my chest and watch his features soften under my gaze. I'm so lost while he's like this. His hands clench as I move my hands from where they were when I'd woken up.

His lower lip is soon between his teeth as my fingernails drag along the pale flesh of his hips. "You're awake," I say, leaving it at that.

Dark eyes open slowly, smooth grey staring into up at me. I want to be angry about the way he stares at me-- although I have no clue _how_ he is looking at me-- but I cannot. The way his eyes hold me where I am is foreign. He has yet to touch me yet, and I feel like I could just explode into a mess of kisses and caresses. I swallow and watch as his eyes flick to my throat then back to my eyes.

I don't know what he's thinking about; I want to know. I want to know if he is staring at me with smouldering eyes because he wants me—it's a selfish thought, I know— or if it's because he needs me here. I clear my throat and push the blankets all the way off of me and over his head, because I don't want him to be watching me as I leave, because it's as if I'm leaving him alone in the world.

I turn to stare at him, the blanket clasped in his hands as he stares at me over the seams. My heart jumps and I look away. I can't hold back the small feeling of guilt as he stares at me that way. I swallow and lower my feet to the floor.

His hand is set upon my shoulder as just a slight pressure. I know he means for me to stay, and I want to. No. I don't want to. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes and frown. "I have to go," I tell him. "Matt will wonder where I am."

Excuses, I think. Excuses, excuses, excuses. I turn to face forward, not bothering to move; my body won't cooperate. His hand slides from my shoulder and I can almost hear him nod. I stand up and leave him alone, the way my mind keeps telling me not to. As I close the door to his pristine room, I cannot help but wonder why in the hell I wanted to stay with him.


	14. JetLag

**Jet Lag**  
**-Near-**

Every relationship has it's 'make it' or 'break it' moment. That's what makes each relationship amazing on it's own. Both people have held on through the 'break it' moments and sighed gently through the 'make it' moments. Mello and I are different. We are very different.

We've never had a 'make it' moment where we just sat back on the side and watched ourselves blossom because of one another. We've never had a 'break it' moment, where everything seemed to crash down upon itself threatening us to either hold on for dear life or to let go and watch each other suffer. We, I don't think, are even in a relationship. Meaning, I have no reason for the butterflies in my stomach when he even glances my way.

True, there is some sort of relation between us, but we are more acquaintances than friends. We simply know one another. We don't end up in a high of happiness when the other is near. At least, I don't believe he does. I do, though. I always seem to.

As I watched him go, I wonder if this would be the moment where I let go and watch my life just leave me in the dust or if this would be the moment I would hold on for dear life and say 'no' to his having to leave. 'Matt doesn't care where you are.' But, I didn't. I couldn't. I let go and watched him walk away.

After the door closes, I stare after him, my brain seeming to have jet-lag. "I don't want you to go. I need you more than Matt does," I tell the door, as if it will tell Mello and my happiness will be restored in the form of a warm body hugging me closely.

No one comes through the door. No one passes on my message. No one seems to notice that I've pulled my blankets over my head and my mouth feels dry. And, I know, no one will come to my room until tomorrow asking if I'm all right. After all, Mello probably doesn't want to see me after I embarrassed him last night and Rodger knows I can care for myself.

I slip beneath the white and hope I can just disappear into my room until Mello comes back. I hope he comes back soon.


End file.
